


Seeing Stars

by glittering_git



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dildos, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Narratophilia, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 14:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10026161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittering_git/pseuds/glittering_git
Summary: In a game of Truth or Dare, Harry chooses Dare and ends up having to Floo-callSeeing Stars, the wizarding version of a phone sex company. Draco loses a bet and has to work atSeeing Stars.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Notes:** A big thank you to the lovely [iamisaac (sabethea) ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/iamisaac/pseuds/iamisaac) for the beta work—I could not have finished this fic without your wonderful encouragement! To [xerised](http://xerised.livejournal.com/profile), thank you for the prompt and inspiration for this fic; I know that it might not have exactly been what you were hoping for, but I hope that you enjoy it nonetheless. And a shout out to the mods for organizing this wonderfully kinky fest ♥

Harry looked down at the pamphlet that Charlie had just handed him, the face of a handsome wizard wearing an eye mask winking up at him sultrily. The name of the service, _Seeing Stars_ , flashed across the top in marquee lights, which illuminated the grey eyes of the wizard. 

“There’s no need to look so put out, Harry,” Charlie commented. “It’s an easy way to take the edge off, and it’s anonymous, so no one would even know that it’s the Golden Boy that they’re talking to. I know that it’s not exactly what you were looking for, but it would mean no more witches or wizards looking to shag the saviour just to say they did.” 

Harry could only shake his head in disbelief. While it was true that he couldn’t seem to find someone who wasn’t after a one-off with “The Boy who Lived Twice,” that didn’t mean that he had to resort to such measures. He had a perfectly serviceable hand, thank you very much. 

“And,” Charlie continued. “The voices of the witches and wizards who work at the company are just sinful—the kind of thing that I _know_ you’d like.”

Harry could feel a blush heat his cheeks, because yeah, Charlie did happen to know just how much he liked to hear others talk about sex. But he couldn’t help it—hearing delicious obscenities fall from another person’s lips was never something that he could resist. If this service could provide that, without needing to go through a boring dinner with a stranger who was only interested in his fame, then maybe it was something that he should try. 

Harry played with the leftover steak and kidney pie on his plate. 

“Oh, come on, Harry. I can see that just the thought of using this service is starting to get to you. Your face is turning red, and I don’t think that they turned up the heating charms.”

This only proceeded to make Harry turn redder, if that was possible. Damn Charlie for bringing this to his attention. Now he couldn’t get it out his mind. Charlie started smirking at him as if he knew exactly where Harry’s thoughts were. Harry ignored it. 

“I’ll think about it,” Harry conceded. 

Charlie smiled in response. “You won’t regret it. I’ve only used it a couple of times, but so far, it’s always ended… satisfactorily.”

…

"Harry, are you there?" Hermione called out, her voice floating from the green flames of the Floo and over the Quidditch game that was playing on the WWN.

"I'm in the kitchen," Harry responded, quickly brushing the flour off his hands. He grabbed the plate of freshly baked chocolate biscuits and strode into the living room. 

"Are those freshly baked biscuits that I smell?" Ron asked, stepping out of the Floo and moving off to the right to let Hermione through. 

"Yes, I made them just for you." Harry smiled, offering the plate to his two guests. “Come in and sit down.”

Ron reached for a handful of chocolate biscuits, but at a warning glance from Hermione, he put all but two back. He walked over to the comfortably worn sofa and sat down, resting his feet on the coffee table. When Hermione shot him another of her _looks_ , Ron quickly moved his feet to the floor. 

Harry couldn’t help but smile at the interaction—even after more than five years together, Hermione was still nagging Ron, albeit silently, and Harry couldn’t imagine it changing. 

“Thank you for making these.” 

“Yeah, thanks mate.” Ron nodded in agreement. “You know how much I love your baking.” 

“Oh, stop it. You’re making me blush,” Harry joked. “And besides, they’re also for my enjoyment.” He grinned and took a biscuit, plopping down in the warm leather recliner and setting the plate down on the side table as he did so. 

“What’s this?” Ron asked, gingerly picking up the flyer that was lying innocently on Harry’s coffee table and holding it gingerly between his thumb and forefinger. 

Harry looked at it with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Although he _did_ want to talk to his two best friends about it, he wasn’t quite ready. But it looked like he no longer had any choice. 

“Seeing Stars: An anonymous way to live those fantasies that you’ve only ever dreamed of,” Hermione reads, her voice lilting up at the end as if in question. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Well, I’m no good at Legilimency, but if you’re thinking that it’s a service that is basically the wizarding equivalent of a phone sex company, then you would be correct.”

“Oh, Harry.” Hermione sighed. “Is this really what you want?”

Harry couldn’t really respond in the positive or the negative, because while it might not have been something that he truly wanted to resort to, he was also getting tired of all of the hero-worshipping, especially when it came to pulling. 

“I’m sure that you could find a nice Muggle bloke to settle down with.” 

“No, Hermione,” Harry whinged. “You know that I don’t want to be with someone that I have to lie to about half my life. And I’m bloody tired of the unsolicited offers and fruitless dates—no one wants to know me, they want to know the ‘Saviour.’”

Hermione could only look at him with pity in her eyes, and Harry had to look away.  
Ron was also studiously trying to avoid eye contact, munching quietly on a chocolate biscuit and staring out the window.  
“You know that we’ll always support you, don’t you?” Hermione asked gently, her warm, brown eyes filled with affection and understanding.

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry smiled ruefully. “Even if what I want is to imagine being fucked by the biggest cock imaginable while listening to a sultry voice get me off?”

“Oi, mate,” Ron protested loudly. “We support you, but that doesn’t mean that we want to hear about all of your kinky fantasies.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet.” 

“Harry,” Hermione said primly, now giving _him_ one of her looks. 

Harry shut his mouth with a snap. 

“So, are you going to do it?” Ron asked, his voice holding a note of incredulity towards the end, like he truly didn't believe that Harry would.

“I'm not sure,” Harry mumbled. “It's something that intrigues me but I don't think that I’ve actually got the balls to do it at this moment in time. I think at this point, I would need some type of push, or perhaps a little liquid encouragement.” 

Harry was staring into his empty fireplace, so he was not able to see the glance that passed between Ron and Hermione. 

“Well,” Hermione said gently. “You don’t have to decide anything right now, Harry. There’s no need to rush into this decision.”

“Yeah, mate. Like you so kindly mentioned before, your right hand seems to be working quite well.” 

Harry could feel a blush start to rise up the back of his neck, spreading across his throat and cheeks. 

“There’s no need to be quite so crude, Ronald Weasley.” Hermione lightly slapped Ron’s arm. 

“But you didn’t come here to hear about my sex life–”

“Or lack thereof,” Ron coughed under his breath, but Harry still heard it. 

“Or lack thereof, as Ron was so kind to point out.” Harry chuckled lightly. “So, about those Cannons...”

…

Harry couldn’t believe that he was foolish enough to get pissed with his friends, especially not after they’d seen the brochure for _Seeing Stars_. He blamed them entirely for the situation that he currently found himself in, crouching on his knees in front of the fireplace and talking to the wizard equivalent of a phone operator.

“Wait, it’s going to cost me how much?” Harry asked incredulously. He’d thought that he’d heard 200 Galleons, but that couldn’t be right, could it? Who would have that kind of money to spend on this kind of service? It was more than a bloody escort, and at least you got to have someone else touch your cock. 

“That’ll be 200 Galleons for a half hour,” the bored Floo-operator responded. 

Harry had heard right. Sod Ron. No, actually now that he thought about it, this idea had Hermione written all over it. She knew him too well—knew how pliable he was after a few drinks, and it had been her that suggested the game of Truth or Dare. Harry knew that he’d taken a risk with the Dare, but he didn’t think that his friends would’ve been cruel enough to make him go through with this absurd plan and actually Floo-call this wizarding service. And especially not if they knew how expensive it was. 

But Harry couldn’t give up now, and they were going to expect a Floo-call in the morning verifying that he’d actually followed through on his Dare. It wasn’t as if he was short on money, what with inheriting the Potter and Black vaults. But still, this was money he could be giving to the Wizarding Orphans Fund. Harry decided that he’d match the amount then and there. 

“So,” the monotone voice of the witch came over the Floo, sounding if possible, even more unenthused than before. “Are you going to make the payment or not?” 

“Uhm, I think... Uh... Yes,” Harry stammered, already feeling a bit flustered at the thought of what he was going to do. 

“Okay, we’ll send the bill via Owl to the address that we have listed on file. You indicated on your application that you were hoping to speak to a man? Is that correct?” 

“Yeah,” Harry responded; and was glad that the witch on the other end of the Floo-call could not see him, as a blush had started to colour his cheeks. 

“Are there any specific kinks or triggers that you would like your Floo-operator to be aware of?”

“No, I think that I’m fairly flexible.” 

“Okay, I’m going to put your Floo-call through to Floo-operator 4. You can call him David. We hope that your experience with _Seeing Stars_ will be enjoyable, and that you’ll call back shortly.” 

Harry could hear the whoosh of the flames as the Floo-call was transferred, and then a tentative voice floated out of his fireplace. 

“Hello?” 

“Er…hi,” Harry replied, his voice matching the questioning nature of the one at the other end of the Floo-call.

“Is this thing working?” 

“I believe it is,” Harry answered, his lips turning upwards in a small smile as he realized that maybe the other person was just as nervous as he was. “Is this your first time doing this?”  
The wizard at the other end of the call hesitated. 

“It’s okay if it is,” Harry rushed to say. “It’s my first time using this service, too, so we can try figuring it out together.” 

“Well, that does make me feel a little bit better.”

“So first time, huh? I guess you don’t come here often,” Harry tried to joke, but it came out sounding a bit forced. “What brings you to this fine Floo-call at this hour?” 

Harry could hear a soft chuckle at the other end. 

“You don’t have to woo me with cheesy Muggle pickup lines—you’ve already got my undivided attention.” 

“Yeah, well, can we maybe just pretend that this is a normal first date between two fit blokes?” 

“Are you calling yourself fit?” 

He could hear David smirking. 

“Uh, well… uhm,” Harry stammered. He always felt extremely uncomfortable calling himself “fit,”—although he’d been told in the past that he was—it had something to do with being the centre of attention. Deciding to divert the conversation, Harry didn’t respond directly to the question. “Well, I am using this service, so I’ll leave the question of my fitness up to you.”

“Purely based upon your vocal appeal, I’d have to say that you are,” David appraised.

Harry shook his head in amusement, and then quickly realized that David couldn’t see it. 

“You don’t know if it’s my real voice —I was told that everyone’s voice would go through the voice scrambler spell to ensure that everyone’s identity would remain anonymous.” 

“Don’t get your pants all in a twist—your voice, as well as my own, is going through the spell.”  
There was a slight pretentiousness to his tone, as if he was used to explaining concepts to people in a somewhat pedantic manner. “But fear of recognition? Are you famous? Infamous? Am I unknowingly talking to the lead singer of the _Weird Sisters_?”

“I’m nobody special, just your average Joe.” 

“Does that mean I can call you Joe?” 

“No, no that is not what that means!” Harry protested indignantly. 

“Joe, I’m sorry. It’s too late. It’s stuck in my head—I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to call you anything else, only Joe, Joe, Joe.” 

“Argh, fine. Only if I get to call you something equally ridiculous.” 

“No, you may not. My name comes from a long line of family tradition.”

“David? That comes from a long line of wizarding tradition? You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“My actual name is not David, you cretin. It’s a disguise.” David huffed. 

“Well, then that means that I just get to make it up.” 

“I will not answer to any insipid nickname.” 

“Sorry Dave, it’s too late. I’m only referring to you as Danny from now on.” 

“Danny, like Danny Zuko from Grease?” Danny asked incredulously. 

“Well, yeah. I think that you’d look downright sinful in leather.” 

“I would say that I’d have to agree with you there, Joe. But that doesn’t mean I have to like the name.” 

“Oh, I’ll give you something that you’ll like.” 

“Is that a promise?” 

“Only if you give me something in return,” Harry teased. 

“I suppose that’s what you actually called for, and we don’t have much longer. Do you think you can manage?” 

“I can make it quick and dirty.”

“So can I.”

And Harry shivered at Danny’s tone.

“Even though this is my first time being a Floo-operator for _Seeing Stars_ it’s most definitely not my first time narrating sex. I always end up telling stories in Truth or Dare, and people always say that I’m good. That’s actually how I got myself in this situation, but I’ll leave it for another time.” Danny cleared his throat, and then asked in a much deeper voice, “Are you in a comfortable position?” 

Harry realized that he was still kneeling in front of the Floo, and quickly stood up, shaking his legs to wake them up again. Even though Dave couldn’t see his face, or his position, he still felt slightly uncomfortable with what was about to happen. He had sort of forgotten the purpose of this call, what with all of the teasing and banter, but knew that he wanted to try. And if Danny’s voice was anything to go by, this was going to be just as good as Charlie said it would be. 

“Yes, I am,” Harry responded, now lying down on his butter-soft dark brown sofa. “Are you?” 

He could hear an embarrassed chuckle. 

“Or is that not something that’s supposed to happen?” Harry asked, now a little embarrassed. It was Danny’s _job_ , after all. 

“Well, I do not think that _Seeing Stars_ exactly encourages its employees to partake in the activity, but they don’t expressly forbid it either, so…”

“So what you’re saying is that you’ll go along, for my benefit?”

“If you insist,” Danny sighed, not sounding all that put-out. “Remember, this is my _first_ time doing this here, so you’ll have to cut me some slack.”

“Uhm, of course. No pressure.”

“I think that we’re going to start out with something that’s relatively simple, something that I find that most people can relate to.”

“Oh, there’s no need to sound like such a git,” Harry chided, nerves making the teasing words stick in his throat. He breathed out slowly, trying to calm himself, and get prepared for what was about to happen. 

“I don’t think you’ll be complaining in a few seconds.” Danny sounded like he was smirking. 

Harry just ignored it. 

“It’s a cool morning and the sun is slanting in through your window, the edges of light just touching the edge of your bed. You accidently left your window cracked last night, and a light breeze ruffles your hair, the wind gently caressing your skin.”

Harry shivered at the sensation. Danny’s silky voice was making it almost effortless to picture the scene that he was describing, as he had experienced quite a few mornings such as that. 

“As you wake up slowly, you become more aware of your surroundings. You realize that your morning wood is demanding attention, but you don’t want to give in just yet, savouring the tension that’s building low in your stomach. You lie there for a bit longer, letting the morning air continue to blow over your skin, your nipples peaking as the breeze becomes stronger, and the concentration that it takes not to give in makes the sensations exquisite.” 

Although Danny hadn’t said anything too riveting, just listening to his voice and imagining the sensations was enough. Harry’s cock was half-hard and already straining against the flies of his jeans. He slowly reached down and tried to alleviate the pressure without making a noise. 

“Hey,” Danny called out. “I heard that. It sounds like you were touching yourself.” 

“I was only trying to make myself a bit more comfortable. And besides, I’m not supposed to be wearing clothes in this fantasy.” 

“I guess you do have a point,” Danny conceded. “Fine, take off all your clothes.” 

Harry was quick to comply. 

“Now, no more interruptions.” 

Harry started nodding his assent, but then realized that Danny couldn’t hear him. “Okay, so where were we?”

“You were just waking up, attempting to ignore your morning wood, but it was becoming much too difficult. You can’t help but think of that bloke that you saw last night at the club—like something from one of your fantasies, this bloke was dressed head-to-toe in black leather.” 

Harry squirmed a bit more on his couch, because he really did appreciate a bloke in leather, as Danny well knew. 

“The form-fitting clothes accentuated his smooth collarbones that were reflecting the multi-colored disco lights, his pert arse on display while he shimmied on the dance floor. He catches your gaze, and starts moving seductively towards you. Once he reaches where you’re standing against the wall, he grabs hold of your hips and leans in to whisper in your ear. You can’t really hear him over the noise of the club, but you understand what he’s trying to say, and you shake your head in agreement.”

Unconsciously, Harry mimicked the bloke in the story, shaking his head back and forth on the couch. Focusing on something other than the growing sensations below his belly made his taut body relax minutely, and he let out a small sigh. He just wanted Danny to move onto the really good parts. 

“You take his wrist and lead the way into the loo, ignoring the glare that the bloke standing at the urinal gives you. You’ve been sporting a semi since you caught a glimpse of all that leather, and you just want his hands on you. A quickie is what you’re desperate for, and so you quickly unbutton your shirt and drag your trousers down. The other bloke smirks at your desperation, but gives you what you so clearly want, reaching his right hand to the waist of your pants and pulling them down, their edge catching on your sensitive tip. He loosely encircles your cock between his thumb and forefinger, and you thrust your hips forward in an effort to seek out more friction.”

Harry’s hand was already around his leaking cock, and he was desperately seeking a release. As he continued to move it up and down, squeezing gently at the base and reaching two fingers to fondle his balls, Danny continued to narrate the scene, voice becoming more desperate.

Too soon, Harry was coming with a raspy moan, his hand and stomach covered in his own release. He lay in a heap on his couch, breathing in large gulps of air. He could hear Danny on the other end, having given up on narration, but still working himself over the edge, coming soon after with a strangled shout. 

The Floo-call was silent for a few seconds, and then the one-minute warning was ringing. 

“Well,” Dave said, and his voice sounded slightly out of breath. “That was…sufficient.”

“Yeah… sufficient.” 

“I think I’m supposed to ask if you found it satisfactory, and if you’d consider using this service  
again.”

“It was satisfactory, and I’d consider it, but I can’t guarantee anything.” It was a lie, but Harry wasn’t at all ready to even contemplate what that lie might mean. 

“I’ll note that in my recap of the encounter. Thanks for using this service; we look forward helping you once again live those fantasies that you’ve only ever dreamed of.”

…

Although Harry knew it wasn’t the best idea, when he got pissed the next weekend with his mates, he couldn’t stop himself from calling the service again. He was put with Danny once more, and by the fourth weekend that it happened, Harry stopped pretending that he was calling just because he was pissed. It was also around this time that Danny gave him his direct Floo-address, and the times when he worked for _Seeing Stars_.

…

“So tell me how you really got involved with this?” Harry asked with a smile on his lips.

“It was one of my horrid friends. She’s a cow and I’m not speaking to her for at least another week.” 

“What happened?”

“Four shots of tequila happened.”

“Oh, ouch.” Harry winced sympathetically. “That’s sort of what happened to me too, but it was Firewhiskey instead.”

“Alcohol and scheming friends are never a good combination.”  
“No, they’re not,” Harry commiserated. “But considering we’re both a little bit pissed right now, I don’t know if we have any room to complain about past infractions.”  
“It’s your chance to ask the really seedy questions.”  
Harry laughed, the warm liquor and Danny’s soft voice lulling him into a very comfortable place.  
“So, tell me about the most ridiculous sexual encounter you’ve ever had.”  
The Floo-call is silent for a couple of moments as Danny thinks.  
“Are you sure that you’re ready for this story? It’s outrageously hot, if I do so say so myself.”

“Just get on with it, Danny.”

“No need to be pushy. We’re not even in bed.” 

_Yet_ , Harry’s traitorous mind added. 

“Well, there was this one time when I looked at a bird in a club, and her bra just popped open. Ever done that before, Joe?” 

Harry could hear the smugness in Danny’s voice. 

Harry, who couldn’t decide if he was horrified or fascinated, replied, “I’ve never done that before, but how is that possible without magic?!”

“Well, I’m going to let you in on a little secret here, Joe. I’m so fit that similar things happen to me all the time.”

“Wait, hang on... you got that idea from that American comedy TV series, _Friends_! You lying tosser!” Harry exclaimed. “I was watching that episode the other day with Seamus.”

Danny was just laughing hysterically on the other end of the call. 

“I can’t believe you almost got me there. I can’t believe that I trusted you to tell me the truth. I’m going to get you for that one.” 

“Oh yeah, what are you going to do?”

“Well, the next time that we do this, or if we actually meet, I’m going to make you pay.” 

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Danny stated, his voice becoming a bit hoarser. “But for now, I’m just going to pretend that you’re here with me.”

“Oh, are you now? And what would I be doing to you?”

“To me? Oh, Joe, you’re too sweet. I think that I’d be doing certain _things_ to you, at least to start us off.” 

Harry couldn’t help but suppress a light shudder at the thought, he did like being fucked by a _huge_ cock. 

“By your silence, I’m going to take that as assent. How about this time, we pretend that I’m actually there with you, and I’ll narrate all of the things that I’d do to you if you were right in front of me.” 

“What would you start with?” Harry asked, his voice husky. 

“Well, to start, I’d make sure that you had your dildo that we picked out a couple of weeks ago.” 

Sometime during the last couple of calls, they’d started looking at toys that they could purchase for each other. Danny had chosen a monster of a cock, its sleek glass always managing to look pretty and intimidating at once. Harry quickly went to his bedroom and retrieved the dildo from its box under his bed. 

“I’ve got it now,” Harry said, his voice slightly breathless from running. 

“That’s good to hear. Today, I think that I’m going to skip straight to the main event since it’s a little bit harder to pretend that someone else is snogging you—the back of your hand can only do so much.” Danny laughed breathlessly. “So, we’ve done a fair bit of snogging, and I’ve probably discovered that your nipples are quite sensitive. I’ve been alternating between sucking on them and breathing cool air over them, sometimes rolling them gently between my fingers.”

Harry arched into the sensations, his right hand working furiously, his fingers slick with spit as he imagined that it was Danny’s mouth, sucking hard. 

“Soon, though, I can’t stop myself from moving my mouth lower and licking a trail down to where you desperately want my attention. I gently stroke your hard length, and when it almost becomes too much, I take you all the way down. You thrust up, but I hold your hips down, and you settle down.”

Harry gently trailed his own fingers through the hair leading from his belly-button down to his groan. He then makes a fist with his right hand and tries to pretend that it’s actually Danny’s mouth on his cock. 

“I look up with a question in my eyes, and with a soundless glance, my hand is coated in lubricant. Wandless magic is a turn on for me, and you know it, and you abuse that power. I trail my fingers gently down your spine, and then gently message one finger around your rim.”

Harry grunted, as he continued to imagine that Dave was there with him. He cast a wandless lubrication charm and reached gently down between his legs and started slowly moving one finger—and then two, and finally three—in and out, managing to continue working his cock with his other hand. 

“I think… I think I’m ready,” Harry ground out.

“I can’t imagine how you must look right now,” Dave gasped. “Fucking yourself on your fingers, your cock slipping in and out of your fingers, chest flushed and heavy. Is the dildo ready?” 

Harry slowly removed his fingers and reached for the dildo that he’d set on the floor. He quickly cast another wandless lubrication charm, and lay back down on his side on the couch, reaching around to position the dildo correctly. “It is now,” he said, right before he pushed it in with a thrust, gasping as his hole stretched to accommodate the monstrosity. He began to work it furiously, fighting to find the angle that hit him just _there_ … he let out a scream. 

“Harder, oh Danny, harder.” 

“Yes, yes, if I was there with you right now, I wouldn’t stop until you were coming. I’d grab hold of your hips and fuck you like I mean it.” 

It’s as if the thought of fucking Harry sent Danny over the edge, and he comes with a low whine. When Harry heard this, he worked the dildo harder, still trying to thrust upwards into his other hand, but it soon became too much. 

“Ar.. are you close?” 

It was Danny’s post-orgasm breath, light and desperate, that pushed him over. He slammed himself harder on the cock, and coming with a scream over his hand and stomach.

…

Harry scanned the bare, white walls of St. Mungo’s canteen, looking for the familiar head of bushy hair. His eyes caught on another familiar, but this time white-blond, head. Malfoy was exiting the canteen, rushing out the doors located opposite Harry.

Harry had forgotten that Malfoy was a Healer at St. Mungo’s. After the war had ended, and Harry had testified at the Malfoys’ trials, they had fled to their family home in France. In France, Malfoy had worked on getting his Healer’s permit, and now worked specifically in the Spell Damage Ward. Harry wasn’t exactly keeping tabs, but if Malfoy happened to naturally come up in his conversations with Luna, then he wasn’t going to stop her from talking. 

“Harry, over here,” Hermione called, waving her left arm in the air for emphasis. 

Harry started walking in that direction, pausing when he caught sight of someone with a dark bob of hair sitting across from Hermione at the plastic table. Pansy. While not exactly friends, Pansy and Harry had managed to move past their childhood animosities and treated each other in a somewhat friendly fashion. 

“Pansy was recently hired by the St. Mungo’s Board of Trustees. She came highly recommended by the goblins at Gringotts.” Hermione smiled proudly in Pansy’s direction. 

Pansy’s cheeks reddened slightly, and she brushed it off. “Well, they damn better well appreciate me, for how much I worked my arse off for them.” 

“I’m sure they do,” Hermione soothed. 

“Well, I’m off. Ta.” Pansy pushed her red vinyl chair back and stood up, her wool cardigan once again hanging along the natural line of her body. “Potter, Hermione.” And she was quickly striding out the doors where Malfoy had exited earlier. 

Harry watched her leave, and when Hermione softly cleared her throat, he quickly looked away and sat down in the seat that she had just vacated. 

“So, Harry,” Hermione started, giving him one of her pointed _looks_. “What was so important that it couldn’t wait until our normally scheduled lunch tomorrow?”

“Well,” Harry hedged. He didn’t want to outright say Ron was the problem, because he knew Ron would be understanding. But with some things, he just knew Hermione would be easier to tell, and this was one of those times. “I just wanted to let you know first.” 

Hermione looked like she wanted to say more on the subject, but reluctantly let it go. “What did you want to let me know?”

“So you know that Dare that happened a couple of months ago? I Floo-called the service that night, just to get the dare over with, anditwasn’tthelasttime.” Harry rushed out, his words tripping over themselves in their haste to escape his mouth. 

“I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t catch that.” 

Harry took a deep breath. Inhale, exhale, breathe. Just like Luna told him. 

Sometimes it worked better than other times. 

“I said,” Harry began, making an effort to control his words, “that it wasn’t the last time that I used the service.” 

When no shocked gasps came from Hermione, Harry hesitantly opened his mouth to continue, but Hermione beat him to it. 

“I can’t say that I’m surprised. You’ve been much less mopey as of late.”

“But anyway,” he continued, ignoring her. “The reason that I’m telling you this is not because I’ve been using the service more regularly, but it’s because I’ve been directly Floo-calling the same person. He gave me his direct address.”

“If I understand what you’re not telling me, you might want something more with this bloke?”

Harry almost imperceptibly nodded his head. While he knew it sounded crazy, he’d never even met the bloke, but he could tell that there was something real there. 

“Harry, you can’t be in a relationship with your booty Floo-call!” Hermione sighed exasperatedly. “That’s just not done.”

Harry could only shrug his shoulders in response. While not a traditional kind of relationship, he knew that it also wasn’t just about the getting off. 

“We’ve got plans to meet in the near future, Hermione.” Harry explained. “We’re taking it slowly, but I can tell that it’s more than just getting off. Also,” Harry added as an afterthought. “He’s not really an operator at _Seeing Stars_. His day job is a Healer, and he’s only working at the service because he lost out on a Dare.” 

“A Healer you say?” Hermione had a glint in her eyes. “And you said that he is only doing it because of a Dare?” 

Harry didn’t like the way Hermione’s eyes were shining—it meant that she knew something. 

“Yes, and?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it Harry. But be sure to let me know when you meet this mysterious booty Floo-call.” 

A smile had lit up her face, and Harry was still worried. But he knew that once Hermione had made up her mind about something, it was no use arguing with her. 

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Harry stated warily.

…

Harry was waiting nervously at a table in the far corner of _The Coffee Shop_ , a trendy place near his flat. It was Muggle because Harry distinctly did not want anyone to recognize him. There was a bell that rang any time the door was opened or closed, and each time that it rung, Harry would look up. “Danny” hadn’t been willing to share what he looked like, so Harry didn’t know quite what he was searching for.

“Is this seat taken?” a soft voice asked. 

Harry looked up and right into the steel-grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.

“What are you doing here?” Harry spluttered, trying to wrap his mind around the incongruous image of sodding Malfoy in a Muggle coffee shop. 

“I’m actually meeting someone,” Malfoy responded, and he had the audacity to smile and sit down at Harry’s table. 

Harry’s chest started feeling tight and he was having trouble breathing in air.

“Are you okay there, Potter?” Malfoy asked, a concerned expression taking over his face. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Harry responded, waving him off. “I’m still in shock that you’d willingly step foot in a Muggle establishment.”

“I think you’ll find a lot of things that surprise you.” 

“Yeah, like what?” he challenged.

“Well, there was this one time that I just looked at a girl and her bra popped off.” Malfoy smirked. 

“You can’t just keep saying that like it’s a thing that actually happened. You got it off that American comedy series—I know it, you know it, that person over there knows it.” Harry gestured wildly, hoping that his flailing motions would hide his face. He wasn’t ready to acknowledge the fact that he’d got off to Malfoy’s voice… multiple times. Maybe they could just pretend that it never happened. 

“How do you know? I seem to remember you being hot and bothered.” And Malfoy fucking winked. 

Harry had had enough of it. 

“Why aren’t you so freaked out about this? How can you be so calm?” 

Malfoy looked away quickly, and his voice was much more subdued when he said, “I knew it was you. This wasn’t a surprise for me.” 

“How did you know?” 

“It was obvious after that second call, when you were telling me about all of your friends, especially Weasley and Granger. I’d already suspected that it was someone famous, and knowing my luck, there was an even higher chance that it was you.” 

“So then why did you meet me here, if you knew?” Harry couldn’t really believe that Malfoy would have done that, not without a good reason at least. 

“Well, what do you think, you tit?”

“I don’t know what to think. That’s why I’m asking you.” 

“If I have to explain it to you then I’m just going to go,” Malfoy said, standing up quickly. 

“Wait!” Harry threw out his hand to grab onto Malfoy’s wrist and stop him. “Now wait just a moment.”

Malfoy reluctantly sat down again. 

“I didn’t get the chance that you did to process all of this. So you’re going to sit your arse right there while I think–”

Malfoy opened his mouth to say something. 

“And if you were going to say something about how ‘that’s a first,’ then just don’t. Give me a chance, okay? Please?” Harry asked, his eyes boring into Malfoy’s, begging him to just be patient. Because while Harry was honestly surprised by this turn of events, that didn’t mean that he was unhappy with them. “So, are you saying that you wanted to meet me, as me?” 

Malfoy nodded slowly and a bit miserably. 

“But what does that mean? I thought that you hated me.”

“Do you really think that?” Malfoy asked, sounding a bit hurt. 

“I think that you want me to say no, but I don’t know,” Harry responded, knowing that Malfoy could hear that he was having an internal struggle with himself. “But last time I saw you, you ran the other way as soon as I entered the room. I can’t imagine going from that, to, well _this_ ,” Harry gestured helplessly at the space between them. 

Malfoy continued to look like he was going to flee at the slightest provocation, and Harry distinctly did not want that, so he rushed to assure Malfoy. “Not that that is a bad thing, though, but…” Harry trailed off. 

“I don’t know if I’ve ever properly hated you,” Malfoy said softly. “I wanted to so badly when I was younger—you with your special broomstick and scar and being the centre of attention, but after you risked your life to save mine in that Fiendfyre, I could kind of see their point. I was just this _boy_ ,” Malfoy spat out angrily, “who thought that the whole world was his, and, yes, I was a right shit to everyone else, but by that time, I knew how wrong Voldemort had been; and when I was staring death right in the face, all I knew was that I didn’t want to die.” 

Malfoy paused here, fiddling with the napkin holder on the table. 

“And then when I found out that this extremely fit, funny bloke turned out to be _the_ Harry Potter, well, you can’t blame me for wanting to get to know him for real.”

During Malfoy’s ramblings, Harry had found his assumptions about Malfoy being continually challenged. This wasn’t the scared boy that he remembered from Hogwarts—but it did fit better with the bloke that was _really_ good at narrating sex. 

“I am pretty impressive, so I can understand where you’re coming from,” Harry joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Draco smiled a little bit at that. “See, I knew that telling this would only stroke your already too-big ego.” 

“I have something else you can stroke,” Harry winked lasciviously, and watched, fascinated, as a soft blush spread over Malfoy’s pale cheeks to the tips of his ears. It was what he’d imagined had always happened during their Floo-calls, but it was so much better seeing it in person. 

“Potter,” Malfoy exclaimed indignantly. “I was trying to have a serious conversation with you and then you go and say things like that.”

“Well, sometimes I can’t help myself, and you made the opening—I just took the opportunity.” Harry smirked. “Also I think I get what you’re saying, and I think that I’d like to personally get to know Draco Malfoy as well.”

“Are you being serious right now, Potter?” Malfoy asked, sounding a bit unsure of himself and the situation. “Or are you just taking the piss?”

“Of course, I’m being honest. You intrigue me, Malfoy, and I’m a bloke who likes to chase after what he wants.” 

If possible, Malfoy’s blush spread further.

“So can we start over?” 

Malfoy nodded minutely. 

“Hi, my name is Harry.” Harry stuck his hand out, a gesture which took him back all those years. He wondered if Malfoy was also remembering that day, but one look at his face made it clear that he was. 

“Hi, Harry,” Draco said, hesitating a bit on Harry’s name, as if it were a new word that he was trying out for the first time. He reached out his right hand and firmly shook Harry’s. “I’m Draco. It’s nice to meet you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love ♥ 
> 
> See more kinky fun at [HP Kink Fest LiveJournal](http://hp-kinkfest.livejournal.com/) :)


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